Between You and Me
by Ruperv
Summary: George and Angelina. 'Nuff said. Not sure whether I should continue. Review?


Between You and Me

Chapter 1

A bell jingled followed by the sound of a door opening. George didn't look up from his list of orders.

Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had only recently started cataloguing - a kind of muggle business carried out by post-order he'd learned from Arthur. He'd introduced it only after taking Hermione's opinion on it, of course.

_After all_, he thought, _who would know better than The Human Encyclopaedia herself?_ He snorted. He'd taken to calling her that - much to her chagrin - after she'd helped him infinitely in getting his act together after Fred had died (sigh) and re-starting his business. And damn, wasn't she right about how it would make him feel better to run the successful business organisation he and Fred had started - in his brother's memory? _Ron better hold on to her_, George thought. _That one's a keeper._

Lost in his thoughts, George didn't hear the woman approach him. She cleared her throat and said his name. He looked up.

A confused expression clouded his face. Then recollection. A smirk.

"Somebody call St. Mungo's. I think I'm hallucinating. That can't be Angelina Johnson standing in front of me!"

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I snorted. Trust George to crack a joke as his opening words to me in almost 3 years.

"Yeah? Well, they better hurry up because I think you're talking to yourself, too."

George smiled. "That's only because I'm shit-scared of your Dad. He was a death-eater, no? 'Cause you're such an Avada Kedavra," he drawled in what he liked to call his sexy growl.

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, George. That line is so old, muggles are using it. Of course, they use "terrorists" instead of "death-eaters" and "bomb" instead of "Avada Kedavra". Such ignorants." I shook my head.

"Oh, well. I'm not exactly a teenager anymore, am I?" George said making a face. "Though I have to say, I didn't particularly enjoy the part where you crushed my heart - hey! That rhymes!" he broke off. Mouthing the words again with a delighted grin on his face as he discovered his inner poet. I cleared my throat conspicuously.

George snapped out of his mesmerised state and looked at me. "Right. Where was I? Oh yeah. I didn't particularly enjoy the part where you stomped on my feelings for you."

Snort. Whatta laugh. That's about as true as him ever being serious. I looked at him, deadpanned.

"You. Had feelings for me. Right."

"No, really. I'm serious." George said.

I raised an eyebrow and looked at him pointedly.

"Oh, well. They can't say I never tried. It's just that the Queen Of My Heart," he said mischeviously, referring to the annoying nickname he called me when we were at Hogwarts, "didn't deign to believe this sad mortal's tale of woe." he finished with a sad-puppy look on his face.

I fought - and failed - to suppress a grin at his performance. "Oh, bravo, Mr. Weasley! I see, you still have the flattery gene in you!"

George fixed a falsely- modest look on his face and took a bow. "I try."

Then, straightening up, "So! What brings you here on this fine fine afternoon?"

"Christmas shopping." I say.

"Christmas shopping, eh? And who is the lucky soul you're shopping for, if I may be so rude to ask?" George said, keeping up his imitation of a society matron.

"Why, you may. It is my two neices. They absolutely _adore_ your products!" I say, catching on.

"Do they, now? I'm sure they'll be _absolutely thrilled_ when their aunt gets them their hearts' deepest desires!"

"Oh, _absolutely_! Would you be so kind as to help me with what 8-year old girl-twins could possibly want?"

"Believe me, I would _absolutely love_ to!" then dropping the act and looking at me with a thoughtful expression on his face,"Twins, hmm?"

"Knew that would convince you. Now, come on! I haven't got all day."

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"So, how much do I owe you?" Angelina said searching for her wallet.

I smiled at the familiar way her forehead crinkled up in a frown as she fumbled with the stuff she keeps in her handbag. I hadn't realized I'd missed her so much after Hogwarts. The war had started and Fred and I had gotten busy with Potterwatch; Angelina was helping out with St. Mungo's at the time. In fact, if you think about it, the last time I had _really_ talked to her was the day Fred and I had left Hogwarts with a bang - in more ways than one. I chuckled to myself. She refused to date me even that day claiming my knowledge - or lack thereof - in the ways of the world as the reason. She always thought of the most ingenuous reasons, I thought with a shake of my head.

Anyway, so we'd gotten busy in the war and the other times we talked were only fleeting how-are-you's. The longest conversation we had since that day in Hogwarts was when we'd all gone to St. Mungo's to see Tonks and little Teddy with Remus. She'd been checking her vital stats or summat and we got talking. She told me how she'd lost her parents and was living with her sister and her husband for now. I'd told her about Potterwatch and how Lee, Fred and I were tracking Ron, Harry and Hermione's movemnts. I remember her asking for the password for the next show and how I'd leaned forward to whisper it in her ear and gotten a whiff of her. She'd smelled just the same. Like sugar quills and something else. It reminded me of Hogwarts and how young and _naive_ we'd all been. I'd promised myself that once the war got over, I'd look her and all my other Hogwarts friends - apart from Lee, ofcourse, because he was already with us - up and keep in touch.

But then the war happened. Voldemort and his bloody groupies. The deathcount on our side was phenomenal. Remus. Tonks. Hell, my _twin_ died. I was obviously not in a merrymaking mood - even though I did feel particularly carefree once The Old Fag a.k.a. Moldy Voldy was killed by none other than The-Boy-Who-Still-Lives (another of my famous nicknames) Harry Potter.

I was, understandably, shattered. Because of Fred having gone to Neverland, I mean. I just ate, drank, stared off into space and slept for about a whole year. Then, Hermione lost her nerve. Ron - poor chap - failed horribly in trying to control her. She practically blasted me for giving up on myself, not working for "the dream", giving up on Fred.

That really opened my eyes, cliched as it sounds. I realized I was wasted. And I set towards correcting that. I still remember Mum's shocked face when I and down the next day for breakfast, hair crisply cut, dressed in Muggle trousers and shirt. (All Hermione.) I run a hand through my hair. That was then. Now I have the original WWW in Diagon Alley, a branch in Hogsmeade (I bought Zonko's), one in Godric's Hollow (there's a newly constructed shopping mall. Yeah, I know. Malls are muggle. But the ministry's really working to make muggle-borns feel more comfortable. And truth be told, I love it!) and the mail-order business. I'm rich, baby!

I was so engrossed in these thoughts, I practically jumped out of my skin when Angelina poked me.

"_What_?" I said, bewildered.

"You spaced out for, oh I don't know, about an _hour _on me! And then you wonder why I didn't believe you liked me!"

Well. I have to say she's most likely exaggerating things. "That wasn't an hour's worth of thoughts! Phssh. I was out for merely -" I look at the clock on the wall behind me, "- 15 minutes! Are you saying you can't handle not getting attention from me for even a quarter of an hour? Well. I'm really flattered!" I say, smug smile in place.

"Oh, you're incorrigible."

"That I most certainly am!" I say, grinning at her familiar frustration with me. "_By_ the way. How about I treat you to lunch?"

"I'd have loved to. But my sister's probably waiting for me."

"So, tell her you can't make it. I'll even cook the Muggle way to impress you!"

"Oh, haha. George Weasley and culinary skills? I don't believe it."

"Well, you always did underestimate me," I say, acting offended. "Come on! Lunch at my place. It'll be like old times."

I could see her resolve wearing down by her facial expressions. She was always a open book to me. "Okaay. Maybe I could cancel. Lead the way, good sir!"

"She loves me! Yeah, yeah, yeah!" I sing and pump the air with my fist, hoping to make her laugh with my lame Beatles imitation.

I succeed, of course. Ever heard of a joke falling flat when _The_ George Weasley cracks it?

**A/N: Alright. This is a George/Angelina I just started. Not sure whether I should continue. Review?**


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